


Chance Encounter

by rpfwriters



Category: Actor RPF, American (US) Actor RPF, Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF
Genre: Drinking, Drunk Sex, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Gen, Language, Oral Sex, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Sex, Sexual Content, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-07
Updated: 2019-04-07
Packaged: 2020-01-06 00:23:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18377111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rpfwriters/pseuds/rpfwriters
Summary: You meet a guy in a club that looks exactly like Chris Evans.





	Chance Encounter

The guy that buys you a shot says his name is Chris, that he’s in town visiting a friend. “He said this was the best place to be tonight,” he hollers over the music.

“Honey, you got no idea how right he is.” Standing between his thick thighs, you grip one of them and take the shot without breaking eye contact. “You wanna dance?”

“Hell yeah.” His drink is gone, and then he’s following you onto the dance floor, your hand in his, up in the air, deep into the sea of bodies.

You’re in his arms, his hands on your ass and hips, long fingers splayed wide, fingertips playing with the hem of your short dress. You hook an arm around his shoulders and bury your hand in his hair, tugging on the short strands as your bodies start moving. The music is primal and you can’t stop from closing your eyes and giving yourself over to pulsing beat of it.

“Has anyone ever told you that you look like Chris Evans?” you ask.

Yeah, you’ve had quite a bit to drink, but you’re not that drunk. The similarities lie in his eyes, nose, and those ridiculously full lips that you have an intense need to feel over every inch of your skin.

“I get that a lot,” he answers with a smirk.

Chris turns you around and grips your stomach with his hand, pulling you into him. The thick length of his cock twitches against your ass and you can’t stop the way your body rolls against his. Your head falls back against his chest, not his shoulder because he’s too damn tall. He’s grinding against you and his fingers creep lower and lower until his hand is between your legs, two fingers sliding against your arousal-stained panties.

“I want you,” he growls, whiskers tickling your earlobe. “Right now.”

Jesus Christ on a cracker.

You turn and capture his lips in a searing kiss, moaning as he pushes his tongue between your lips. You can taste tequila, lime, and tobacco, and it’s making you heady with desire. Your hand is behind your back and squeezing his cock through the thick, unforgiving denim in time with his fingers against your pussy.

“Lead the way,” you purr, scraping your nails against his scalp.

Chris’ fingers grip your pussy as he spins you around. “Mine,” he snarls. He grabs your wrist and hauls you through the club until you’re at the end of a dark hallway.

Your back is against the wall and Chris is on his knees. He rips off your panties and drapes one of your legs over his shoulder. You can hear him breathe you in, feel the rumble of his approval against your leg, and then he’s got two fingers inside of your eager pussy. They’re twisting and plunging, stoking the already raging inferno inside of you.

“Holy shit,” you gasp, back arching off the wall, hands scrambling for purchase. One of them finds it in his hair, the other on his wide shoulder.

“Sweetheart, I’m only just gettin’ started.”

The flat end of Chris’ thumb seeks out your clit, and the pressure he applies brings tears to your eyes. It’s true, he’s only just begun and you’re already so close to your orgasm there are stars bursting in your peripheral.

“Come on, baby,” he urges you. “Let me taste it.” His tongue slides in beside his fingers, both of them thrusting relentlessly in tandem with one another until you’re shaking and crying out, spilling onto his fingers and tongue.

You’re gasping for air when he kisses you. He thrusts his tongue deep into your mouth so you taste yourself as he digs out a condom from his pocket. He has it on in record time, and he’s picking you up by your thighs. A heavy moan leaves you as the length of his cock slips through your slick lips. God, he’s big. Somewhere, in the back of your mind, you’re worried you won’t be able to take all of it, but then he’s pushing into you, stretching you, and all remaining coherent thought is gone.

“Shit, shit, shiiiiiit,” he’s groaning, hands on your hips, his own shaking as he works to restrain himself. “Fuck, you’re tight.”

Words? What are those? You’re currently feeling too much to even try and string together enough words to form a sentence.

Jesus, you can feel every pulse of blood through the veins in his cock, especially the large one on the underside, the one that you want to drag your tongue up and down. You’re full, so fucking deliciously full, that you have no doubt you’ll be feeling him for a week after.

Chris starts moving, inching in and out, slowly at first, but then his hand is on your throat and he’s kissing you as if he can’t get enough. Your ass slaps against the wall and your breasts bounce out of the low-cut dress with every tight thrust of his hips. Chris sucks on your nipples, swirls his tongue around each one, and scrapes his teeth over the pebbled and sensitive skin.

Your legs are shaking, ankles hooked behind his back, feet arched painfully as the orgasm rips through you. The rush of blood in your ears drowns out the thumping bass of the music, but not the grunts of the man who you’re clinging to. He’s close. He’s grabbing your ass, hauling you into him, punching a groan out of you, and his cock is swelling, pulsing as he cums, a filthy curse a shattered cry on his lips.

He’s got you pinned to the wall, his mouth on your neck, sucking dark marks into your skin, burning it with his beard. “Come to the hotel with me,” he purrs, lips bumping against your earlobe.

You can’t really speak, so you nod your head and unknowingly flex yourself around his softening cock.

“Jesus,” he hisses. “Keep that up and I’ll take you outta here like this for the whole goddamn world to see.” He slaps your ass hard enough that you wince.

Well, that got all the blood rushing through you again. “It’s not like you can walk with your pants around your ankles,” you sass, squeezing him once more.

“You’ve got a point.” Chris glares at you as you uncross your ankles and slide down his body, shuddering as his cock slips out.

You tuck your breasts back into your dress, tug the hem down, and glance around the hall for your discarded panties. It’s too dark, so you give up just in time to watch as he tucks himself into his jeans.

“See something you like, sweetheart?” he asks, eyes dark and dangerous.

“I’ll show you at the hotel,” you promise, bending over to pick up your shoes, flashing him.

Once you stand, his hand is on your ass. “Fuck that. You’re showing me in the car.”

You don’t know what time it is, nor do you know where you are. What you do know is that you got fucked good. Every muscle is burning pleasantly as you stretch, the sheets soft and silky against your skin. You sit up slowly, knowing that one wrong move could send you spiraling into a hangover you didn’t want.

The room is wonderfully dark and you fight the urge to slide back down and fall asleep. The only thing that helps motivate you is your bladder. That, and the taste of stale booze on your tongue.

Fifteen minutes later, you’re showered and have fresh breath. Back in the bedroom, you find your skimpy dress at the end of the bed, torn into two pieces. Damn. That was one of your favorites. Remembering there are robes in the bathroom, you grab one and cover yourself before wandering out of the bedroom. You’re not sure what, or who, you’ll find. All you really remember is a guy that looks vaguely like Chris Evans and some pretty adventurous sex.

“Mornin’ sunshine,” he coos from the couch, cell phone in hand, a smile brightening up his face.

And that’s when you realize he doesn’t just look like Chris Evans. The bastard is Chris Evans.

“Fuck me,” you gasp, hand over your mouth.

“Again?” he chuckles, standing tall, a predatory gleam in his eyes.

“Wait a minute,” you snap, one hand up. “We aren’t going to discuss how you’re Chris Evans. I mean… what the hell?”

“I’m Chris Evans,” he shrugs. “Does that bother you?”

“Well, no,” you laugh. “It doesn’t. Not at all.”

“Good,” he chuckles, “Now, we were discussing me fucking you.” There’s a predatory gleam in his eye that makes your stomach clench with need.

Your mouth is completely dry, but your body responds just as it did last night. “Unless you’re not… up for the job,” you sass, eyes dragging down his body to the noticeable bulge in his sweats.

“Sweetheart, that mouth’a yours…” his voice trails off as he stands in front of you, fingers deftly unwrapping the robe and pushing it down, exposing you.

The cool air makes you shudder, goosebumps dot your skin, and the sudden tightening of your nipples has heat pooling between your legs. Without breaking eye contact, you kneel in front of him and hook your fingers into the top of his sweats. Chris rips off his shirt as you slide the sweats down his legs. Your entire body tightens at the sight of his cock, half-hard and crimson, tip glistening with drops of pre-cum.

You take him in your hand and press your tongue flat to the underside of his cock, moaning greedily as the thick vein pulses against your tongue, as his cock grows longer and thicker. You lick him slowly as you squeeze his balls, massaging them between your palm and fingertips. When you reach the wide, velvet cock-head, you dip your tongue into his leaking tip.

He hisses at that, bucking his hips so that your lips envelope him. “Stop teasin’.”

Fuck, you love it when he gets bossy, and you have a feeling he gets bossy a lot. You twirl your tongue around his head before sucking him down, taking him as deep as you can without gagging, your hand stroking what your lips can’t reach. Chris’ wide hand is on the back of your head urging you faster, harder, further down his substantial length until you can’t breathe.

Grunting with rapidly-weakening resolve, Chris pulls you back. “Breathe, baby.”

Your lungs fill with fresh air and you can feel the heat in your face, but fuck, you want more. Using your saliva, you pump him in your hand, mewling when more cum oozes from his cock. Without any urging from the man above you, you take him in your mouth again, sucking and swallowing around his cock-head until he pushes your head down so that his ginger curls tickle your nose.

You’re choking on his cock, and the lack of oxygen sends heat rushing to your pussy. It aches and throbs, and before you knew what you’re doing, you release his balls and dip two fingers deep into your pussy. Your hand works in tandem with your mouth, fucking yourself at the same speed, with the same ferocity that you’re fucking him with.

Without any warning, Chris pulls you off the floor, drags you to the couch, and fishes a condom from the jeans that he wore last night. He sits down and slides on the condom, grips your hips, and hauls you onto his lap, driving into you, not stopping until his pelvis bites into yours and his balls slap your ass. He hasn’t even fucked you yet and you’re already falling apart at the seams.

Even though your orgasm is far from over, Chris’ fingers dig bruises into your hips, he spreads his feet, and starts pounding into you. He’s kissing you fiercely, biting your bottom lip, sucking greedily on your neck when your back arches, devouring every inch of you he can reach. The pain only adds fuel to the raging inferno scalding its way through you. You’re shuddering as you cum, his name a hoarse shout.

“Fuck… baby girl… I’m… I’m -” his gravelly voice is cut off by your mouth. You drive your tongue between his teeth and kiss him just as savagely as he fucks you. He cums as you kiss, pulsing harder yet when you reach around and squeeze his balls.

His hips snap up once, twice, three times more and he bites your bottom lip before hissing, “fuuuuuuck.”

You drop your head to his shoulder as the pair of you came down from your high, panting and body parts pulsing with aftershocks. Rough hands rest on your lower back and ass, squeezing gently and dragging slow, lazy circles on your damp skin.

“Well,” you gasp, raking a hand through your now sweat-dampened hair. “That’s one way to start the day.”

Chris chuckles deep and smacks your ass. “At the rate we’re goin’, we’ll be here all day.”

“You got something better to do, Evans?” You scrape your nails through his beard and find yourself sighing when he looks down at you.

He shakes his head and kisses you. “Ain’t nothin’ better than you, sweetheart.”


End file.
